Three Accidental Words
by estrafalaria103
Summary: Prom is perfect, until Kurt says three words that it's way too soon to say. And now Blaine's going to break up with him, and Mercedes is annoyed at him, and he doesn't have a refund for the boutinere. one-shot Klaine


It had really been the perfect night. Granted, the decorations in the McKinley gym were somewhat tacky, and the lighting was horrible, and most of the girls had worn _far_ too much make-up. The dresses were cliché, and the boys' tuxes were all uninspired. The music had primarily just been Jacob's iPod plugged into a pair of old speakers Mr. Schue had found in the old astronomy room, and the punch was overly sweet and from concentrate. Still, it had been the perfect night, because Kurt had been able to walk into his school, hand in hand with a _boy_, and nobody had said a word.

He'd danced, check to cheek, with a _boy_ and nobody had laughed.

He'd kissed a _boy_ and nobody had jeered, or pushed him into a locker, or dumped a slushee over his head.

IT didn't hurt that the boy who'd gone with him was beautiful and charming and dapper and clever and so perfect that it hurt. . .

Yes, it had really been a perfect night. Which meant, in the world of Kurt Hummel, that everything was bound to turn to shit as soon as possible. He just hadn't expected that _he_ would be the one to end the perfect night.

It was after prom was over, after Coach Sylvester had screamed at everyone to leave, after Figgins had begun mopping up the floor on his own, muttering about the budget, after Mr. Schue had given them high fives and said that he was proud of them, after Rachel and Quinn had driven off together, bad-mouthing Finn, after Santana and Brittany had hugged and made up, after Puck and Lauren had finished with their lewd comments and their invitation to join up at the motel room, after. . . .

Well, after a lot of stuff. Blaine pulled his car up the driveway, and put it in park.

"Walk you to the door?"

He really was the most perfect boyfriend in the entire world. Kurt couldn't answer, he was just so filled with happiness. He nodded, though, and that was enough for Blaine, who quickly walked over to the passenger side of the car to take Kurt's hand in his. He leaned forward, and gently brushed his lips against Kurt's. Simple. Quiet.

"I really had a lot of fun tonight," Blaine said as they walked up to the door. "Thanks so much for inviting me."

Kurt still couldn't say anything, he just nodded his head, because it had already been so perfect, and now there were stars out. He'd always wanted to be kissed under the stars, and as Blaine leaned forward, he realized that yet another perfect thing was going to happen.

And it did.

Which meant that, in t-minus fourteen seconds, the world was going ot implode and the worst thing that could possibly happen would.

Which it did.

Blaine pulled back, his hazel eyes filled with compassion. He left one hand on Kurt's cheek. "Well. . .I guess. . .bye. . ." he said, a little awkwardly. And that's when it happened. Kurt opened his mouth, and did the dumbest thing he could possibly have done.

"I love you."

Granted, it could have been worse. Blaine could have freaked out, or screamed, or run away, or done one of his charming "Kurt, I _really_ care about you speeches" or something like that. But he didn't. He just blushed a little, and glanced at the ground.

"Say hi to your dad for me."

And the next thing Kurt knew, he was driving away. He was driving away, and he hadn't said it back.

"You're not stupid, Kurt," Mercedes said, later that night. After having answered his dad's questions, and gone through photos with Carole, Kurt had quickly fled to his room and called his best friend. "Wait. . .what did he do again?"

"Nothing, Mercedes! He didn't do anything! He didn't even react! Like he didn't hear me!"

Oh, there was a moment of hope, a little glimmer. . .

"Well. . .maybe he didn't?"

"No, he definitely did," Kurt buried his face into a pillow. "I have excellent enunciation."

"What? Are you talking into your pillow again? I can't understand you."

"I said that I have excellent enunciation! There's no way that he didn't undrstand me," Kurt said. "And now I've freaked him out, and he's never going to talk to me again!"

"Don't you think you're overreacting?"

"I told him that I _loved_ him. After we've only been going out for three weeks. Three weeks! He's going to think that I'm some kind of a diva!"

"Well. . ."

"He's going to think I'm clingy and needy!"

"Well. . ."

"Oh my God. . ."

Blaine avoided him the whole next week. Maybe. Kurt couldn't really be sure, because to be fair, they didn't normally see one another much during the week. And it _was_ finals, and Blaine _had_ warned him that he really had to study, and that there were a lot of review session, and that he probably wouldn't call until Thursday. . .

But then Thursday came, and all Kurt got was a terse text.

-Sorry. Massive English paper due tomorrow. See you Friday for coffee?

"Mercedes, he's going to break up with me," Kurt said, slumping down and banging his head repeatedly on the cafeteria table. "He's going to come in and say that I'm moving too fast and he's not ready for that kind of relationship and . . .and. . .I'm so stupid! It was the perfect night!"

"Okay. . ." Kurt glanced at her from the side of his eyes. She was looking at Santana, as if wondering why she had to deal with the psycho. "Um. . .I'm going to stop talking to you, because you're ranting like a lunatic, and there are bigger fish to fry."

"Like what?" Kurt asked, because he didn't really know what could _possibly_ be a bigger deal than the fact that he had messed up his first relationship ever (with a _real_ guy – nice like, Finn or Sam or Brittany, or that one time he'd cornered Jesse, or that party when Puck got waaaaay too drunk and handsy or)

He didn't even notice that Mercedes had started talking. He didn't really care. He just thumped his head on the table again.

And then it was Friday afternoon. How had it gotten to be Friday so quickly? What had happened to Monday through Thursday? He was not prepared for his heart to be broken! Still, best to be prepared in all cases. He made sure that his hair looked extra fabulous, so that Blaine would get a taste of what he'd be missing.

He got to the coffee shop first, ordered their coffee, and sat down. He glanced at his watch. 5:01. Blaine was a minute late. Blaine was _never_ late.

Oh, God. Was he getting stood up? Was he not even going to have the closure of a face to face confrontation? Would he have to face the dissolution of his first relationship over a cold nonfat mocha in a coffeeshop conveniently located halfway between Westerville and Lima?

Life was so unfair.

Which was why he was a little irritated at whatever car out in the parking lot was blaring an a cappella rendition of the Counting Crows "Accidentally in Love." Because nobody here was accidentally in love, thank you very much. Except for maybe the old couple sitting in the corner, because it was hard to believe that they had purposefully walked outside wearing those outfits.

"_Come on, come on_

_ Turn a little faster _

_ Come on, come on,_

_ The world will follow after_

_ Come on, come on_

_ Cause everybody's after love_"

It was getting louder? How was that even possible? Kurt had half a mind to throw the rapidly cooling medium drip at whatever yuppie had the audacity to interrupt his pity party. Unacceptable, that's what it was. But he knew that he would never throw the drink. . .it was his last tie to the love of his life, who was probably already macking on some other boy who didn't blurt out declarations of undying love _way_ too early in a relationship.

Then the door flew open. It was _extremely_ dramatic, and Kurt had to take a moment to appreciate the sudden flair of it all. A silhouetted figure walked in, and Kurt caught his breath. He recognized that figure, that hair, those eyes. Sure enough, Blaine Anderson, accompanied by the full retinue of Dalton Academy Warblers, walked in the room.

"_So I said I'm a snowball running_

_ Running down into this spring that's coming_

_ Melting under blue skies_

_ Belting out sunlight_

_ Shimmering"_

Kurt's heart was thumping almost painfully as Blaine and the Pips wove their way between closely crowded coffee tables. The old couple clapped along, and several of the other patrons turned to watch appreciately. One girl in line slapped Wes' butt, and another seemed to be asking Thad for a number.

Kurt, meanwhile, noticed that the song had been slightly altered. Still. . .it could be worse. At least Blaine wasn't breaking up with him.

At least. . .he didn't _think_ that Blaine was breaking up with him. But his boyfriend _was_ bad at expressing himself, except through music, and _did_ always find a completely inappropriate song to convey said emotion. . .

Now Kurt was just confused.

_"Well baby I surrender_

_ To the strawberry ice cream_

_ Never ever end of all this _

_ Well I didn't mean to do it_

_ But there's no escaping your love"_

By this time Blaine had reached his table. His hazel eyes lit up at the coffee waiting for him, and reached over to pull Kurt up. Okay. . .definitely not being broken up with. . .Kurt was tremendously confused. And then it got weirder, because Blaine jumped on top of the table to belt out the chorus.

Granted, Kurt probably shouldn't have been surprised. His boyfriend did have a bizarre obsession with running all over furniture while performing. He held onto Kurt's hand the whole time, though, staring down with soulful eyes. The rest of the Warblers had retreated to the background, still singing backup harmonies.

"_Come on, come on_

_ Jump a little higher_

_ Come on, come on,_

_ If you feel a little lighter"_

And then Blaine pulled Kurt up onto the table with him. Which. . .okay. Well. Kurt was especially glad, now, that he had primped, since every. Single. Person. In the coffeeshop was staring at them. And. . .wait a minute. . .

Was that Mercedes, Tina, and Rachel joining in with the Warblers?

Blaine had both of his hands, now, and was still trying to catch his eye. But Kurt closed his, because it was all too much to take in. . .the calluses that Blaine had acquired from years of playing guitar rubbing up against his own hands. . .the smell of Blaine. . .the music being sung at him. . .and he still had _no_ idea what was going on, but by this point he was sure that, if nothing else, Blaine wasn't breaking up with him.

"_Come on, come on_

_ We were once upon a time. . ._"

And then Blained stopped singing, and Kurt's eyes flew open. He _knew_ the next words. Sure enough, the Warblers kept singing about being in love and accidentally in love and. . ,

Shit. This was Blaine's way of giving that speech again. That "I care about you" speech, the "you move me" speech, the "courage" speech.

In other words, this was Blaine's way of saying that they could keep dating, but he wasn't going to say those three words back. Which Kurt understood, he really, really did, because it had been way too soon. Even so, he was a little disappointed. Because prom really had been the perfect night, and he hated to end it in this embarrassing way, a full week later.

Blaine tugged at his hands, drawing his attention back. And no, Blaine's face wasn't kind of watery because Kurt was _crying_, absolutely not. It was just the fluorescent lights. And the. . .um. . .the smell of coffee.

Blaine leaned forward so close that Kurt could feel his warm breath across his face.

"_I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love_"

Oh.

"_I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love_"

Kurt waited for the joke. He waited for the song to finish "I'm in love with coffee" or "I'm in love with Harry Potter" or "I'm in love with jumping on furniture." But then he realized that the only person left singing was Blaine. And Blaine was staring at him with those beautiful hazel eyes, and those endearing triangular eyebrows and. . .

"_Come on, come on_

_ Spin a little tighter_

_ Come on, come on_

_ The world's a little brighter_

_ Come on come on_

_ Get yourself inside his_

_ Love. . .I'm in love_."

Everybody started applauding as the Warblers took their bows, and Blaine helped Kurt down from the table. He didn't let go of his boyfriend's hand the entire time.

"I'm sorry I didn't say it back," Blaine admitted, when they were finally (blessedly) on the ground again. "I wanted to. . .I felt it. But I'm just. . .I suck at romance."

"You're quite good at the grand gestures, though," Kurt pointed out. Blaine blushed a little.

"Yeah, but. . .I don't really want to bring the whole group with every time I see you," Blaine said. "So. . .I"m going to try just a simple romantic gesture. Promise you won't laugh."

Kurt couldn't talk. He wasn't under the stars anymore, and it wasn't a perfect night. He was in a coffee shop, surrounded by horribly dressed old people and uniforms in navy and red. Still. . .he bit his lip.

"Kurt Hummel, I love you."

Okay, prom was okay. _This_ was the best day of his life.


End file.
